Four Directors MARTIN SCORSESE hope you bear with me tonight. What I thought I'd do is talk about the work of four directors of Irish descent. Actually, three of these I directors are half Irish and one, John Ford, is, of course, one hun­ dred percent Irish. I am just going to give my impressions of what some of these Irish American directors meant to me over the years. A number of people here do know something more about films, but I'm going to have to speak, in a sense, to laymen. And what I am going to do is dis­ cuss the work a bit, show a couple of clips and try to sum things up. Of course, I am not really in any position to talk about what is quintessen­ tially Irish. I'm a Sicilian American. But what I can talk about is what I observe in the work of these four directors, what separates them and what links them. There's John Ford, Raoul Walsh, John Huston and Leo McCarey. And they are about as different as four directors can be. But there is something that they all share. It's as though they had glasses on in which the lenses were shaded differently. I am sure many of you know the James Joyce story, "The Dead;' which has a very beautiful, unique tone. It's sad, thrilling, teeming with life and also very elegiac. Joyce captured something that was very real and very Irish in that story, a special tone that hovers between sadness and exhil­ aration. And that tone, I believe, is shared in the work of the men I am going to be talking about tonight. Two of these directors, John Ford and Raoul Walsh, were true film pioneers. Huston and McCarey, John Huston and Leo McCarey, they were also pioneers in their own way, but Ford and Walsh began direct­ ing in the mid-teens. I think Ford's first picture was 1917, Straight Shooting. He made one picture a week-a reel a week. That's a one reeler, or a Western every week. But they were among the men and women who were creating the gr=ar of film, who helped create the twentieth cen­ tury art form. As relatively sophisticated film viewers of 1996, we are pretty much This talk was delivered at The American Irish Historical Society on May 28, 1996. 45 THE RECORDER jaded. We take things for granted that these men were forced to think about and work out through trial and error. I mean how do you tell a story with a succession of moving pictures, moving images? How do you get an audience to accept a series of images as one story? It wasn't simply a matter of just going out and shooting a Western for a week. For instance, you have to think, if horses are galloping out of the frame, left, where do they come in when you cut? Do they come in the same side? It will look as if they are going against each other. And the only way they worked this out was through trial and error, trial and error. These methods were constantly being created there on the set at that time. These are like subliminal images delivered to a mass audience that's like one synthesized mind. The desire for a story told in moving pictures, or motion images as Henri Bergson put it, is a very old and very basic one. It's really, I think, a fulfillment of a desire you can feel in the early cave paintings, as when you see a painting of a bison, and instead of four hooves, there are twenty. He's running, but the artist couldn't show him running. It's a rock, so ... That's the idea. Or Trajan's column in Rome, which is great. If you took it out and peeled it like an orange, you'd just see a strip, like a long comic strip, of scene after scene after scene. It's really a motion picture. Renaissance fresco is the same. Or, recently at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I saw an Assyrian show and they had a stele which showed a king on the right. In the center was a man dressed exactly like the king, standing. On the left was a priest kneeling. And it took many years for archaeologists to figure out that the first two figures, the seated man and the standing man, are the same person. He's pictured as standing, getting up, in mo­ tion. And there has always been that desire, always that fascination with movement in humanity. It reminds me of another story. Earlier this year I was in Rome, and I wanted to go to St. Clement's again. St. Clement's is this great church that contains five or six levels of different churches. We had a wonderful Irish priest, the archaeologist in charge, who took us through the exca­ vations. He wasn't wearing a collar, so at first I didn't realize he was a priest. I was very interested in what he was saying, because what is un­ usual about St. Clement's is that the church is on different levels. The first church, I believe, is the one of the eleventh century or the twelfth MARTIN SCORSESE century which exists now. Then, below that, there was one built, I think, in the sixth century. Then, below that one from the third century and then one from the first century, and then below that the painted Temple of Mithras, the actual streets of ancient Rome which they are still exca­ vating. The priest was very excited because he took us through the new excavations, and he showed us the cistern for baptism of the third cen­ tury church, which is really fascinating. It was lodged in the wall, though, and they couldn't break in the wall because it was somebody's house on the other side. It's a big problem to break in, but they are working it out. This priest also showed us a little panel that had just been excavated. And it turns out that on the bottom of the panel are three smaller pan­ els. The first panel is a picture of two men pointing at something. This is from the sixth century church. And by that time you can begin to see the debasement of the art. You begin to see it's the fall of the Roman Empire. The art is crude. Above the two men is a little balloon, like a comic strip with words. In the second panel, the two men are saving someone from being hurt. In the third panel, they are carrying that person away. And they had words, like a comic strip, on each panel This fresco shows a part of the story of St. Clement, his rescue. But what is interesting about the words is that they are the earliest known ex­ ample of written Italian vernacular in the church. And the priest trans­ lated it for me. The first panel said something like, "They are attacking Clement." And the second one said something like, "Quick! We have to help him:' And the third said, "The sons of whores almost killed him:' The Italians I was with were a little funny about that, but the Irish priest thought it was hilarious. So there is always the desire for visual storytelling. The ability to tell stories through moving pictures, I think, is one of the greatest develop­ ments in human history. And, of course, everything did start with Griffith and Ford and Walsh, along with such contemporaries as Thomas Ince, Cecil B. De Mille, Dwan, King Vidor and other immi­ grants such as Frank Borzage, an Italian, Chaplin who was from England, Maurice Tourneur from France. They are really responsible for the development of a whole new form of communication, one that has become so powerful in this century. Now, about john Ford. What I am going to do first is to list a lot of his films in the order of the periods of American history that they cover. The 47 THE RECORDER first one I'll just mention is Drums Along the Mohawk. That is his first color film, 1939, with Henry Fonda, Claudette Colbert. It was about the pre-Revolutionary days. Then, you move up a little further in his canon of work and you get Young Mr. Lincoln. That's the early nineteenth cen­ tury. Then, you get The Horse Soldiers, the Civil War. He did a segment in How the West Was Won on the Civil War. Then, you move further into time, The Prisoner of Shark Island, which takes place just after the Civil War, the story of Doctor Mudd. Then, fudge Priest and its remake The Sun Shines Bright, which is about Reconstruction. Then The Searchers, about the West, Stagecoach, about the West, My Darling Clementine, about the West. The cavalry trilogy-Fort Apache, Rio Grande, and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon-are all about the development of the West. The Iron Horse, which Ford made as a silent film in 1925, is about the build­ ing of the railroads, leading into The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, which is about the end of the West and the beginning of industrializa­ tion. There is Cheyenne Autumn, which is about the horrible experience of Native Americans. Into The Long Grey Line, which deals with Martin Mallar, caretaker of West Point, and that's throughout the early twenti­ eth century.